Chasing Ivan (7 page)

The aft portion of the top deck was circular rather than oblong like the rest, and for good reason. It was a helipad, complete with a big silver bird. Unable to help herself, Emily blurted out, “Wow!”
 

Michael said, “It’s nice, but it’s not Mister Voskerchyan’s toy of choice this year.”
 

Emily looked around, wondering what could be more fantastic.

“It’s not up here,” Michael said. “It’s down on deck one. Care to guess?”

She pictured the speedboats she’d seen earlier, and let her imagination run with it. “A jet boat? A hovercraft?”

A third voice answered correctly. “A new submarine.”

They turned toward it and Emily saw a man in black slacks and a black shirt walking in their direction. He was above average in height and athletic in build, and had a spring in his step that spoke of pent-up energy. His smile showed teeth, and his eyes showed fire. And his hair showed that he worked hard to look like his appearance didn’t matter. The resemblance to his picture was only slight. Live, he looked much better.

Michael said, “Emily, allow me to introduce Andreas.”

Chapter 12

ANZHELIKA
WAS ENORMOUS. One hundred and ten meters was the length of a football field, including both end zones. It would be easy to find, even in this superyacht crowd. Searching it, on the other hand, was going to be a challenge. And before we could search it, we had to get aboard.

“It’s in the berth closest to open water at the far end of the Rainier III dock, which is at the southern end of Port Hercules,” Oscar said.

“Makes sense. Probably the only place a monster like that would fit. Send me the deck plan.”

“How are you going to get aboard?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Well you need to figure it out fast. I don’t want to have to swoop back in and save your ass again. The Director just reminded me that this is his top priority. You hear that, Achilles? Nothing is more important to the CIA on this day than catching Ivan. Nothing.”

“You don’t need to remind me.”

“Good. Then stop talking, and start doing.”

I’d read that Steve Jobs was a real prick, but people lined up to work for him because he was such a genius. Well, Oscar was no genius.
 

There was a sizable gaggle and a lot of hubbub coming our way along the dock, including a TV camera and a boom mike. A trio of sailors was out front like the head of a spear, firmly but gracefully clearing the way.
 

“We’re in luck,” Jo said, over her mike. “Here comes the prince.”
 

I wasn’t sure that was lucky. If an alert had gone out after our little incident at the gate, the prince’s security would surely have it.

I watched Jo size up each member of the entourage as though she had something in mind. We’d spread apart earlier to avoid looking like a couple in case there was a BOLO alert, but once her royal recce was complete she moved back to my side. I wasn’t sure what she was up to, but something about the look in her eye made me willing, even eager, to play along.
 

Still watching the oncoming procession, she began to talk with animation, gesticulating left and right out of context. “Did they tell you how I came to S-O-G?”
 

“No. They didn’t tell me anything. Not even your full name.”

“It’s Josephine, like Napoleon’s love. When I was born I think my parents had plans for me that were far above their station, but they never called me anything but Jo, so that’s who I’ve always been. Anyway, from the time I could walk, if I wasn’t in school I helped out with the family business.”

“Which was?”

“We ran sophisticated confidence scams. Relieved those with too much money of some of their burden. Long story short, a year ago I ended up, quite by accident, with the briefcase and wallet of the US Ambassador to France.”

“You what?”

The gaggle was just a few feet from us now, and Jo spun about and began walking backwards so that she could face me while she talked, all the while continuing with her wild gesticulations. “It was a dangerous situation for me, and an embarrassing situation for His Excellency. You know, if there’s one thing you learn growing up with con artists, it’s how to look at a situation from different angles. I chose to look at that situation as an opportunity to switch professions.” Jo spun back around, colliding as she did so with a younger man near the rear of the prince’s entourage. It was a full-on collision, causing them both to tumble like drunken dancers into the woman he’d been speaking with. Jo began apologizing immediately and rapidly in French, trying to comfort the victims of her carelessness, while she steadied them like a pair of floor vases she’d caused to totter. She was so clumsy. So stupid. So sorry. The procession moved on without notice, all eyes still riveted to the prince, all ears straining to hear his witty reflections on this year’s event.

Jo returned to my side and continued walking as though nothing had happened. After a few steps she pressed something into my hand, holding it for a moment for appearances’ sake.
 

I shifted my grip to check her pulse. Slow and steady. Using a feigned wipe of my brow to check the contents of my palm, I said, “You may be new to S-O-G, but you’re no stranger to the field.”
 

Jo had passed me a small stack of business cards. They were embossed with the coat of arms of Monaco and bore the vague but powerful title,
Office of His Highness, Prince Albert II of Monaco
. No doubt she’d scored the woman’s card for herself. “Very nice. What’s your title?”
 

“Secretary to His Highness.”

“You reckon these are our tickets to the party?”

“I do reckon.”

We were still a half kilometer from
Anzhelika
. The sun was setting and the dock was clearing, but the yachts were coming to life as champagne corks were popped and cigars were lit in anticipation of multimillion dollar deals. “Are you going to finish your story?” I asked Jo.

“Can’t you guess the rest?”

“I doubt my guessing would have the flamboyance of your telling.”

“I found my way into the ambassador’s residence and left the briefcase and wallet under his pillow.”

“With a card, I assume?”

“The alternative would have been rude.”

“What did you write?”

“Please find my curriculum vitae attached. Yours respectfully, Josephine Monfort. Along with my phone number, of course.”

“Of course.” I held up my hand and began tabulating with my fingers. “
Skills
,
balls
,
integrity
,
ingenuity
, and
cheek
. I could see Granger weighing that lineup on par with a chest full of combat ribbons.”

She held up a hand and made the peace sign. “I noticed that you ran out of fingers before you got to
respect
and
lateral thinking
. They’re very big on those at Langley.”

“Those go without saying.”

“It was Granger who evaluated me on the ambassador’s recommendation, but he was gone before I completed my training. I liked him. Were the two of you close?”

“He brought me in, trained me, and functioned as my control for four years. He’s a great man and a good friend.”

“You obviously miss him. I only met Oscar briefly. He comes across as more of a politician.”

“Let’s just say he and Granger have different strengths.”

“So what’s your story? Special Forces?”

“No, I was also the oddball of my class.”

“Do tell.”

I didn’t like talking about myself, but the
Anzhelika
was still a couple of minute’s walk away, and there was nothing like casual conversation to help a couple blend in. Security would be looking for people exuding purpose. Jo seemed to intuit this. “I was a biathlete until a back injury ended my career.”

“By biathlete, you mean shooting and skiing?”

“That’s right.”

“Were you any good?”

“I grew up in Colorado, where both are obsessions, and I was obsessed enough to make the Olympic team.”

“No kidding? Wow! How’d you do?”

“I won bronze in Vancouver, but of course I wanted gold. I was totally committed to winning it too, when I hurt my back.”

“That sucks.”

“It happens a lot. I didn’t want to let it make me bitter, so I funneled all my energy into rock climbing, which is another Colorado obsession.”

“The back injury didn’t prevent that?”

“You’d think, but no. Different force vectors.” This was starting to feel more like a first date than a SOG op, and I found myself enjoying it. Apparently eight weeks of working exclusively with Oscar had left a void.

“Well, it seems to have worked. You don’t strike me as bitter.”

“Thanks. Actually, the Olympic disappointment made me reckless. Desperate to prove myself, I went straight for free-soloing, which is where you climb without ropes or equipment. I tackled cliffs like they were battlefields and I was my ancient namesake. With that attitude and my Olympic conditioning, I managed to set a couple of speed records. Nothing newsworthy anywhere outside Colorado or climbing circles, but enough to make the local papers. Granger was visiting the Air Force Academy, saw an article and got curious. He ended up recruiting me. Kinda made me his pet project and brought in some top guns for one-on-one training, since I didn’t have the typical Special Forces background. I was very fortunate.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Five years.”

“I just finished up at The Farm five days ago. I’m barely over the jet lag.”

“Well, you’re doing fantastic so far. Those were great moves, by the way. I was looking for some sleight of hand, but still didn’t see a thing.”

“Merci beaucoup.”

I grabbed Jo’s arm and guided her into a vacant tent.

“What is it?”

“Michael’s coming down the
Anzhelika’s
gangplank. He’s dressed the same as when he left the Mercedes, but now he’s carrying a large tan leather bag. “Do you have a cricket?”
 

“Afraid not.”

“Crap. Time for a tactical pivot. I think you should follow him while I go after Emily.”

“Aren’t you going to need my help searching the ship?”

“That would be nice, but finding Ivan is the mission and two links to him are better than one. We’re operating as though Emily is on the
Anzhelika
and Ivan is with her, but those are both assumptions. One of us should stick with Michael until the other spots Ivan, and since he saw my face earlier today in London, it can’t be me.”

“Makes sense,” Jo said, her voice a bit hesitant.

“Familiarize yourself with the way he moves. He’s got a distinctive gait. Reminds me of a wrestler walking onto the mat. Recognizing it will make it easier to tail him if he employs counter-surveillance tactics. Under no circumstances are you to engage him, understood? He may appear to be a nice guy, but I know a carnivore when I see one.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it.”

“I understand.”

“We’ll keep our mikes live, and regroup as soon as one of us has something. Agreed?”

I saw a trace of fear in Jo’s eyes, but she said, “As you wish.”

Chapter 13

JO FELT A drop of adrenaline hit her bloodstream as she took up Michael’s tail. She’d followed hundreds of marks through the streets of Paris and Nice while running her scams, but this was different. This time she had a concealed weapon, and no doubt that Michael was lethally armed. A slick tongue and swift feet might prove insufficient if she slipped up and caught his eye.

With Achilles by her side, chasing Ivan the Ghost had felt like another training op, even though it was her first actual mission. Alone now, she understood that this was very different.
 

Another drop of adrenaline.

Port Hercules twinkled like a Christmas tree, with a hundred superyachts ornamenting the azure waters, all polished for show and festooned with lights. Twilight was a tough time to tail in any circumstances, with the setting sun and dancing shadows playing tricks on the eyes, but the perpetual motion and cascading contrasts of the Monaco Yacht Show magnified those effects exponentially. As the partygoers came in and the exhibitors went out, rolling cases of equipment and bags of all sizes, Michael’s distant form was bouncing in and out of focus with every other stride.